Buried

CHAPTER 33 | twisted roots

A/N.  Its the weekend again.. For those of you following the Rugby World cup... my condolences to the Springboks ... what happened????   Well done to England, Georgia, Ireland, Japan and France!!! My fingers are crossed for tomorrow, go the AB's!!!!

Don't forget to vote if you enjoy the chapter.

Thanks for your support.

M.

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William Bratton's morning hadn't been going well. The clock on the wall was telling him it was a little after ten am. His body, however, felt like it was much later than that.

He had been fielding and ducking calls from everyone from the mayor downwards. Everyone wanted answers. They were demanding explanations on how this could have happened.

To be honest, so did he. Information coming in from his men were still a bit sketchy and chaotic. The one thing that was clear – the perpetrators had gotten away. How? Was the question on everyone's mind.

How did they manage to disappear into thin air leaving absolute carnage behind?

As the New York Police Commissioner, they were all looking to him to provide those answers. To make sense out of acts of mindless violence such as this. The city was in a state of panic.

William was about to reach for his phone when his personal assistant knocked on the door and breezed in, followed by the sweet aroma of freshly ground coffee.

"Long Black, extra strong," his PA said as he placed the cup on the Police Commissioner's desk, "and they're here," he finished, indicating towards the door.

William reached for the cup. "Send them in."

No sooner had Duncan left, his First Deputy Commissioner and Chief of Department strode into his office. Both looking grim. William indicated for them to take a seat as he took a gulp of the hot beverage. "So, what do you have for me?" he began, "The mayor wants to get out in front of this before it turns nasty and we have a bunch of vigilantes on our hands."

William turned to his Chief of Department. James was responsible for police operations within the five boroughs that made up the purview of the NYPD.

James glanced down at his notes. "We have nine confirmed dead," he began, "at least another dozen critically injured."

"What about the rest?" the Police Commissioner asked.

"They're still been treated at the scene and we have diverted more paramedics to the school to help out."

"What about the gunmen? Do we know what the hell happened yet?"

James shook his head, "No. We believe there was more than one shooter. One in the school, the other took up a sniper post across the road and picked off victims as they ran for cover."

"I don't need to tell you we need to divert all resources to the case until we find the bastards," William said, "I want all available detectives onto it as well."

James visibly balked, "But what about the active cases? We have over fifty officers on the  Restaurant shooting in Queens alone."

"Pull them off it," William commanded, "What's more important, finding two loose cannons that have just gunned down children and teachers. Or finding who took out twenty odd mobsters?"

"If you ask me, they did us a service." The first deputy commissioner muttered under his breath.

William threw his first deputy a glare clearly indicating the comment was inappropriate. "I want the ME's office to drop everything as well. They need to autopsy the victims as soon as possible so they can be released to their families. We will be crucified if there are any delays," William instructed.